


Absolution

by hunter049



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Booms and Woofs, Headcanon and Barks, Patchwork with Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-06-06 17:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunter049/pseuds/hunter049
Summary: A highwayman's past is not one often shared, bottled up and building. Some can ignore it, but others, like Dismas, can't help their minds returning to what led them to that point in their lives. The Hamlet offers a chance for riches, a chance for glory, and a chance for redemption. Dismas looks to the life he's led, wondering if he deserves that chance.





	1. Chapter 1

Bright embers wafted through the frigid air, floating from the small campfire and soon entangling with falling snowflakes, snuffing out as quickly as they’d come to life. Dismas watched this cycle, dark eyes unreadable. He sat against a long fallen log, trees surrounding him but the town’s lights still visible, his chosen position not unlike that of the survivalist. He could hear the woods whisper to him, enticing him to wander farther, to enter the Weald proper and return to who he was and always would be, the highwayman that killed and robbed as easily as he ate and breathed.

Dismas ignored its call, pulling a flask from his coat and taking a swig. The amber liquid burned his throat as it went down, but he savored the pain, considering it the least of his penitence for his crimes. He hid a cough in his crimson scarf, feeling the snow melt against his hair and sap the heat from his coat, the cold seeping in slowly throughout his body. He was all too aware of the aches and pains he’d feel in the morning from the cold, and the squawking to come from his plague doctor teammate Eveque, but at that moment, he couldn’t care less. 

He craved the solitude, needed it even. Out there, alone in the woods, he could reminisce all he wanted about the life he’d led prior to coming to this wretched place in the hopes that his efforts could redeem him. He could wonder if he would ever feel worthy of the pride and love that the woman that’d left his life so long ago had felt for him. He could feel every stab of guilt and remorse unperturbed by well-intentioned but bothersome teammates, and perhaps even friends. 

He could even dismiss to himself the drops of water falling down his cheeks as nothing more than simple melted snowflakes. 

The small campfire crackled in front of him. The sound was familiar, for a time, and it painfully reminded him of the times with her he’d been lucky enough to share. Yet it was a good pain, a pain he’d take a million times over if it brought him a hair’s length closer to her. He let himself fall into his memories, to relive them and hold and cherish them, though never ever enough for their true worth.

_ “Dismas...” She cooed, smiling so sweetly as her arms looped around his neck. He only grinned, swaying with her as they danced the night away, every new song only ever bringing them closer together. He had never been happier. In all his life, nothing had made him happier than being with this woman. _

_ His eyes widened imperceptibly as she leaned in for a kiss, and he obliged her with all he had (barring public indecency). His bandit’s sense was going haywire, as if someone had now decided to try to end his life, but with her in his arms, let them try. She was all he’d ever need, and he’d die before losing her. _

_ She beamed up at him once they parted, smile so wide and gleeful that her eyes closed- _

_ Her eyes were closed, but now her expression was full of pain, worry, and fear. Yet it was a mere lingering tightness in her expression, an echo of the life that felt the sorrow. He trembled as he pulled her in one last embrace, and only once he felt her head limp on his shoulder did he break.  _

_ “No!” He keened, screaming into the dead night as he lost everything he’d ever held dear, their child growing cold between them. The shattered man sobbed into her hair, pleading with any god he could think of. “Don’t take them! Please, for gods’ sake! Take me instead, take my worthless form, give them back! Let her live, you bastards!”  _

He opened his eyes, taking another deep swig and letting the deep burn fight the pain in his chest. It didn’t work. Dismas swiped angrily at his eyes, taking his trusty blade in hand and considering it for the slightest of moments. His grip trembled, mind at war, before sheathing it once more. “No, Eveque’s too damn perceptive... Damn bird woman.”

The rogue tended to the flames a bit more. He took note of the small log that was in the center of the fire, the one that he’d centered the flames around purposefully, to always have fuel and help continue its warmth. He thought back to his own beginnings, then decided that if he was to examine his life, he needed more ale. He drained his flask in one go, then lay his head back on the log and began to dream of a better time, of a better life before he himself had destroyed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short intro chapter, I'm sure the rest will be longer. I hope you enjoy this intro though, and feedback or your thoughts will always be appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

_ A Lifetime Ago _

Dismas woke up to the rising sun and the scent of eggs frying on a hot pan. His stomach grumbled, eager for another filling breakfast and another fulfilling work day as a candlemaker’s apprentice. He smiled and yawned, enjoying the last wisps of sleep’s embrace before sliding his legs off the bed and standing. 

To say he felt fortunate was an understatement. He’d been personally chosen to be Lucerna’s apprentice, the woman of wax and flames who smiled as she offered a hand to a mere homeless, pickpocketing whelp. She’d housed him and rather raised him from an abandoned orphan off the streets into a young man he fantasized she might even consider a son. And she ensured his stomach was full at all three meal times. The woman was never short on gold when it was needed, or when she gave him an allowance of a few copper pieces a week.

“It isn’t much,” she had admitted as she ruffled his hair when he was first starting to live with her, “but save it, and watch it grow, and soon enough you’ll be able to buy a palace all on your own,” she teased, and he’d smiled with pure adoration. While now Dismas was well aware that she’d been kidding, it was certainly becoming a nice sum in its own right, now a small chest full of gold coins that he hid under a loose floorboard in his room, having dug out the dirt underneath to feed to the potted plant in his room. While he’d taken from it now and then to feed a craving for sweets or buy a small trinket for himself or Lucerna, it was still mostly intact, and growing every week.

Dismas got dressed and washed his face, brushing his hair then hurrying over to the kitchen where a plate of eggs and bread awaited him. His caretaker sipped a cup of tea, smiling as she spotted him. “Good morning, Dismas,” she greeted warmly, and he went over to hug her and reply in kind. 

“Good morning, Lucerna, and thanks!” Giving his thanks to the bountiful cook, he took his seat and began to devour the breakfast before him. Under her protection he’d never gone hungry, unlike his early days on the streets. Of course, he didn’t feel the bitter bite of the night’s cold, or the fear when a bigger urchin threatened him for all his scant belongings. No, that life was mercifully behind him. And it was all thanks to this woman. He owed her everything, and Dismas was determined to be a good apprentice and repay her and, perhaps one day, even make her proud.

One meal together later, they were in the melting room, where constant small flames melted animal fat into usable tallow for more candles. The room of melting fat, boiling aromatics, and flames all around was the one room in the house that was constructed not with wooden walls, but strong, sturdy and (most importantly) fireproof stone bricks. It was also, as one might guess, rather humid and hot. 

She smiled and checked on a few small tallow trays, nodding at the progress. “Tell me, just to humor an old woman,” she looked to him with a twinkle in her eye, “Do you still have that first candle we made together?” 

Dismas reddened a bit and could pretend it was from the heat. He knew she was far from old, but he wasn’t the small, malnourished child he once was either. Still, to answer, he nodded with an embarrassed smile, “Yeah, I do.” It still had a hallowed spot next to his bed, on those few nights he felt like burning it for a small while and watching the flame dance. 

She smiled, as if she knew how much he cherished it. “Good,” his caretaker said softly, just happy to hear it. “Now, I have a commission piece done for Mr. Koveli, so if you’d be so kind as to take it to him today?” It was part of his apprenticeship to take the completed candles that were specially ordered by nobles to their homes. He figured it was likely to get them to recognize him and vice versa, as well as just help her in general as he was supposed to. 

“Of course, I’ll be happy to.” Dismas was still a bit awed at the power Lucerna wielded. Her skill as a craftsman was extremely well-known, to the point that nobles from all backgrounds and all regions sent letters asking her to make them at least one candle, and she was paid very handsomely whenever she accepted. Her candles held the quality and prestige in the public eye that they did not only because she was an exceptional master of wax and flame, but because she was very selective on who got to enjoy them. They were a mark of power and success to those who earned them, and thus, she had a few disgruntled nobles against her from being denied. When Dismas asked why, after a noble threatened her in person and she stood her ground, she simply replied, “They don’t deserve it.”

The Koveli family was a neutral party though, keeping to themselves and lacking in much philanthropy or shady dealings. So, Lucerna decided to allow them the candle, since there was no good reason to deny them. It had taken weeks, but she finally crafted the candle that she felt fit what the family head had asked for. 

She smiled and led him back out after she found no disruption in the works, bringing him to the room that was far cooler, thankfully, and that she used to carve and intricately create the forms that gave her such renown. Lucerna brought him a parcel, neatly wrapped and feeling quite cushy due to the padding. “Here. Take good care of it. You should be able to take it today, I’ve sent a letter a few days ago letting them know to expect it soon. It’s not too far, you should be able to make it there and back well before sunset.”

Lucerna reached into her pocket and gave him a few gold pieces. “Take these too. You can buy yourself a few meat buns if you get hungry, since you’ll need to go through Fellsbane to reach their estate.”

Dismas nodded and took the parcel and money with a confident smile. “Thanks, and don’t worry, I’ll make sure it gets there safe.”

“You always do,” she smiled warmly and ruffled his hair.

His smile turned to a grin at her touch, and he left the room, parcel under his arm carefully. The young man put on his coat, a dark blue one with nice white fluff along the inside. Lucerna had bought it for him the first time she’d gone with him to buy clothes and seen the shine in his eyes at the cool looking jacket. Despite the very fluffy look, it was a perfect coat for anything but summer days, keeping him warm even on the colder nights that winter offered, and still feeling pleasant in the spring showers or among the falling leaves of autumn.

He left the house with parcel in hand and gold in pocket, walking down along the road that would lead him past the other businesses and eventually out of the city. Dismas couldn’t help his ear perking up though, naturally seeking out information as a pair of workers took their smoke break to chat and relax a while.

“Oh yeah, it’s been rough. Hope the Guard can straighten them out soon, we’re already starting to lose a lot of supplies.” One said, tapping their cigar to let some of the ash fall and fly away with the soft wind.

“Damn bandits and brigands on the roads. As if we didn’t have enough worthless urchins in the city,” the other spat.

Dismas bristled as he walked past them, but the two didn’t mind him other than giving a polite nod. He nodded back and kept going. The young man didn’t have time to be too angry at the jab toward who he’d once been, though it hadn’t been directed at him. He now had the reality of highwaymen on the roads beyond the safety of the city, and he was carrying something that could definitely be seen as valuable cargo.

He adjusted the parcel under his arm, his free hand dipping into his pocket to feel the hilt of a dagger. He’d bought a simple blade, nothing extravagant, but enough to practice with and stay sharp when he had some time to himself. Dismas knew the dangers of the world first hand, and while he’d refuse to fall to that darkness again for his master’s sake if not his own, he wasn’t about to leave himself vulnerable. 

Dismas eventually walked along the road leading away from town, his eyes scanning around and looking cautiously for anything out of the ordinary. He could see the grooves and trails that were left behind by wagons and stagecoaches, often carrying noblemen or their servants on their errands. The young man turned back to see the city from outside it, always feeling so small yet, somehow, feeling like a part of it all. That brought him satisfaction. His eyes flickered to the gilded gate tips that rose above the more common shops and homes, showing where the nobles and high ranking officials housed themselves away and expressly separate from the common folk.

Then he looked to the small but familiar sign that poked out ever so slightly from the rest of the shops’, smiling to himself and feeling resolve. The package would get to its proper owner, no matter what, or who, stood in his way.

Bit by bit, the signs disappeared into the whole, until it all mixed into a general city, shrinking with each step. Dismas examined the trees and shadows they provided, but he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The wind rustled leaves from the shrubs and trees, crows cawing now and again. Nothing suspicious. But every second that passed, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen, his grip on the dagger’s hilt tightening imperceptibly but surely.

Brigands were around. He knew that. How close, he couldn’t say, but-! His thoughts froze as he heard a loud crack. Instinct drove him to jump away from the snapping of a fallen branch to his right. His eyes scoured the rough source, but he still didn’t see anything. His heart pounded in his chest, tightening it and shortening his breath. Dismas could feel the whiteness of his knuckles from how hard he was clutching it. He was on edge, ready to fight or run.

Yet nothing happened. 

The young man swallowed dryly to try to help his suddenly dry throat. A few seconds passed like hours, but he soon grit his teeth and forced the rest of his body to relax, loosening up a bit and muttering to himself, “Alright... Just a deer... No bandits here... I’m completely alone.”

He screamed and jumped as a gruff voice asked from behind him, “You sure ‘bout that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for any who were waiting now quite a while for the next chapter. A mix of procrastination, life busyness, and the self-propagating thought of "it's been too long, it's been too long, there's no point in continuing" led to this, but I'll be posting more regularly now that I've reignited it. So, I hope the chapter was enjoyable, and if you like, feel free to leave feedback, even if it's type-shouting at the inordinate wait time.


	3. Chapter 3

Every sense was on high alert as he jumped forward, yanking his dagger out and holding it in front of himself once he turned toward his opponent. “Stay back!” The young man warned, his grip trembling slightly with the adrenaline of a fight rushing in, vaguely familiar from so long ago. The blade felt so hot in his hand and he heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The bandit grinned in spite of Dismas’s attempts to intimidate him. “Shaking a bit there, kid.” This only elicited a growl of further warning, making his grin widen. “Now, hand over your coin and whatever you’re carrying, and I won’t have to gut you.” He brandished his own sharper, longer dirk, a bit worn from use but far more adept to the task at hand than Dismas’s cheap dagger.

Dismas thought to the coins that Lucerna had given him in the hopes of keeping him fed and comfortable for the job she entrusted him. The candle that would cement her further as the master of her craft everyone recognized her as, and the one that she’d worked hard on for the family that wanted it badly as a symbol of prestige. In the grand scheme, it was a small task, but it was one given to him, and he couldn’t let her down. 

“No...” He shook his head, staring down at the man before him. He forced the trembling to stop, tensing up and adjusting his stance.

The brigand started, before taking in the whole picture and just laughing. “This isn’t a request, kid. Last chance, your stuff or your life, it’s up to you.” He let out a breath as he composed himself. “Though I ought to thank you, I haven’t had a mark like you in a while.”

“I gave my answer,” Dismas muttered, twirling the dagger and eyeing his enemy. A bulkier man, stronger and taller and with a longer reach, dirk and clothing worn but only seeming to prove the man’s experience with that battle damage. 

The man’s smile grew thinner, but he nodded. “Alright.” He rushed forward, going for a straight thrust, far faster than what his frame would suggest.

Dismas barely sidestepped the attack, turning on his heel to still face him and rearing his arm to strike. He sputtered and stumbled back as the man slammed his elbow into his gut almost instantly, knocking the wind out of him and stopping his counterattack. He could taste a bit of bile, but his grip on the parcel held true. The same couldn’t be said for his dagger, which thumped to the dirt road and left him with nothing but his bare fists.

In his winded state, he couldn’t do much else than try to protect the candle. The brigand snickered and stowed his own dirk away, cracking his knuckles. Even his fists were bigger and more calloused than Dismas’s. “You’re real funny, kid. What’s your name?”

“Why? To add to your list?” He wheezed, recalling a similar practice a long time ago. 

“Nah.” The man opened his palms to show nothing, a sign of peace. “I like the fire you’ve got in here.” His thumb pointed back to his chest. “We could always use a guy like that, you know. And, means you get to keep whatever you’ve got on you, so there’s that. Seems you’re pretty attached to that thing.” He smirked when the young man covered the parcel further when simply mentioned, like an animal protecting a cub or valued piece of food.

“I don’t want to join your damn gang,” Dismas spat. He was done with that kind of life, though leaving it clearly seemed to have some downsides as his attacker showed. “I’m not that kind of pers-” 

The dirk was out and at his throat faster than he’d thought possible, and he swallowed as his eyes fixed themselves onto the man’s face, inches away. He could feel the skin on his Adam’s apple sink slightly against the cold blade. 

“I don’t think you get it,” the elder of the two explained. “I’m offering you the only chance you’ve got to actually continue on with your day. ‘Sides, I think you are that kind of person. Takes one to know one, and I can see it in you, even if it’s all murky. Like a reflection messed up by some ripples in a lake, you know? Anyways, if you want to take that package home or deliver it or whatever, you’ll have to join the Rusted Crown.” His eyes hardened. “And to be clear, this is my last offer.”

Dismas looked into his eyes, dark brown gazing into near black. The blade against his throat was steady and firm, though a single movement from either of them could rip his gullet open. Better he at least finish this last errand for Lucerna and figure a way from there, than die in that moment and not even get to say goodbye. He didn’t think he could forgive himself if that happened. 

“Fine...” Dismas scowled. 

“Aw don’t look so put off, rookie.” The older man backed up and put away his knife. “Name’s Tessel. And you still didn’t tell me yours,” he pointed out with a grin.

Dismas wasn’t amused. “Dismas,” he muttered, kneeling and grabbing his knife off the ground and putting it away slowly to avoid any misunderstanding. He adjusted the parcel, sighing softly in relief. He didn’t feel any broken pieces.

“Alright Dismas, we’ll head over to Fellsbane and introduce you to the boss. Think she’ll like you, she’s a fan of rookies with fire,” Tessel pointed again to his chest, right over his heart. 

“... The Rusted Crown?”

“We’re a growing bunch of well-meaning folk,” Tessel winked. “We’re taking in people who want to see the world change, one rich bastard bucked off his high horse at a time. Some join us willingly, others... well, you’ll grow to like us. After all, we’re in it for the people like you and me, average folk who deserve to live better than the squalor around us. Or you think it’s right some folks ‘round here starve and beg while those pricks get to eat as much as they want up in their wannabe castles?” 

Dismas frowned. He’d thought the same for a long time, but he knew it wasn’t so black and white. Some of them were decent people, those that passed Lucerna’s judgment had to be. But such a difference in living wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. “I’ve lived both sides of that coin enough to know it isn’t so simple.”

Tessel huffed. “Yeah well, when you lose something to the greedy, vengeful bastards, you tell me if their side ain’t polished gold and ours is a damn cow patty, and see how much that shit’ll buy you.” His eyes flashed with a dangerous anger for a moment, making Dismas backstep, but when he looked again, it was gone. Had it been just a trick of the light? 

“Right... Well, then I suppose we should be off. I’d rather get this delivered. My...” Dismas paused, wondering what to call Lucerna. “My mentor wants me to get this delivered.” 

“Hm. Alright then.” Tessel took a drink from his flask and nodded in the direction of Fellsbane. “Let’s get moving.”

 

The two passed the gates and entered the city limits. Immediately, a couple of people in long brown robes approached them, asking, “Have you accepted the Light as your guide and savior?”

Tessel spat at the feet of one of them, snarling, “Get lost! We’ve no use for you!” He drew up his scarf, the crown on it upside down to look like fangs. 

Dismas’s eyes widened but he stayed quiet, just following the fuming man further into town. Tessel’s eyes had flared with that same dangerous spark of madness and fury during his dismissal. He didn’t want to see such a gaze aimed at him.

The bandit seemed to notice his shifted demeanor though, looking back and sighing at the slight flinch. He pulled his scarf down. “Look kid, I’m not gonna snap at you. I don’t like those fellows because they prey on the people who need help most. They get plenty of money too, so I’m not too sad about robbing some blind.”

“... Don’t they also give money to some of the poorest, give them food, water, shelter?” Dismas recalled people in such robes. A few looked at him derisively, but more than half gave him a sad look and at least a bit of coin, some going so far as to bring him spare clothes or bread and cheese. 

“Some,” Tessel admitted. “But enough I’ve dealt with were barely more than swindlers, con artists, worse than bandits like me. At least I’m honest about stealing from people. Fools think they’ve done them a service when all they did was take some coin and tell them some Flame or Light will shine on them.” Dismas again noted the complex issue here. It was interesting to him that people of the same group could act in such polar manners. 

“Anyways, we’re here.” Dismas blinked and noticed they arrived at a nice tavern. At the surprise on his face, Tessel chuckled wryly. “We’ve done well for ourselves. Convinced the owner that we’d keep his place safe and bring in business. We do, mind you. We pay for our drinks and even board. Stolen coin’s coin, after all.”

Inside the tavern it was well lit, the atmosphere warm and lively. Some people wore scarves, some didn’t, but they interacted and laughed and argued no matter the mix of gang members and not. The ones in scarves, and some without, raised their mug of foamy drink to the new arrivals, and Tessel waved back with a grin. The older man led Dismas to the bearded barkeep, who smiled and passed Tessel a mug. “On the house, Tess.” 

“How’s the wife?” Tessel asked, drinking from his mug and tapping a gold coin in front of Dismas. 

“Oh she’s doin’ well and dandy now thanks to you. Can’t believe you found a doctor that quickly... Ah! Sorry lad, what can I get ya?” Red bushy hair surrounded his warm smile. 

“Dismas, meet Charon. Charon, Dismas,” Tessel said, licking his lips free of the foam. “Oh, and he’s still a boy, best to get him some softer cider, Char.”

“Right there with ya,” the barkeep nodded, and soon Dismas found himself drinking some surprisingly tasty cider. “What brings you back so soon? Thought you were out for a round or two.” 

“I was, but I found this fireball.” Dismas looked between the men as the two smiled at him, Charon seemingly appraising him and nodding soon enough. “So I brought him back in to show Feng. What do you think?”

“I think he’ll do fine,” Charon said, giving Dismas a thumbs up and keeping that friendly grin on his face so naturally. 

“Well.” Tessel downed his drink, and tugged Dismas gently to follow suit, resulting in the boy coughing. “Need to be off, this boy’s got an errand to run after this.” 

“Hard worker, even better than I thought. Be seeing ya, Dismas. Good luck.” Charon waved as the two left, going back to cleaning mugs. 

Tessel brought him down to the basement, where it was far more than a storage room for alcohol. It was an entire other floor down there, kegs and bottles in a neat and tidy corner as the rest was used for many more scarved people at tables and chairs. Some sat on boxes, even, where chairs had run out. People were eating meals, peeling potatoes to put in baskets, talking and discussing, or apparently reporting to a woman who looked to Tessel and waved. He walked over with Dismas, and gently nudged him forward. 

“Feng, this is Dismas. He’s a lad I found on my personal rounds, and I think he’s got what it takes to be a damn good recruit, if we train him up a bit. But what do you think?” 

The young woman eyed Dismas, her eyes dark and narrow as she examined him, as if searching for something within his being. After a minute or two, she nodded. “Hmm. I like what I see, we can mold him. But let’s see where he’s at, then.” She hopped off the table and stood, a switchblade appearing from her coat sleeve in her palm with a snick sound. 

Tessel gestured for him to give the parcel over. “I’ll keep it for you, until you’re done trying to land a hit,” he said with a smile. Dismas didn’t have much choice, and he’d rather Tessel hold it than anyone else there.

Tessel stepped away, as did the others nearby, giving the two a wide berth. Feng waggled her switchblade, and Dismas took out his own simple knife. “Ha. We’ll need to outfit him, I see. Still... Don’t hold back. Dismas, was it?” He nodded. “Nice. If you hold back because you don’t want to hurt me, then don’t bother. I’ll be surprised if you can even manage a scratch. And if you hold back because I’m a woman...” She grinned malevolently, and he could feel the hair stand on the back of his neck. “You’ll regret it.” Some of the men and women around them nodded fervently.

 

It ended rather poorly. His knife had long since fallen to the floor, and Feng pinned him against the floor with a boot and a smirk. “... Not half bad. Needs work but you lot can refine him. Make him sparkle like a diamond. For now, though, congratulations, Dismas.” She grinned, and helped him to stand with a clap to his shoulder. He was definitely going to bruise after today. “You’re a member of the Rusted Crown.” Cheers erupted around them, people clapping his shoulder and admiring his show against her as a new recruit. Tessel grinned and gave a thumbs up, and people toasted him.

Maybe joining wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one later than I would prefer, life gets in the way more than I expected but rest assured this story will continue. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the next one ought to be out sooner than this one took.


End file.
